The Missing Angel by Erle Cox (english books to improve english txt) 📖

a fellow and an equal. From her

they learned if their visits were propitiously timed.

 

Tydvil, who had tested her carefully, knew that she would correct lapses

of English in his dictation, and that she knew how to keep silent in

matters where silence was golden. She remembered nothing which she

should forget and forgot nothing she should remember. Their relations

were entirely impersonal. To him, she was a perfect instrument for his

business needs. No one ever knew what Geraldine thought of Tydvil.

 

On the morning of the revolution, Geraldine arrived on the stroke of

nine. In the inner office she spent a few moments patting a helmet of

hair, more red than gold, into order. Systematically she surveyed the

great oaken desk, saw the date stamp had been altered, straightened the

wide blotting pad and glanced over, the pen stand. Then she opened one

of the two office safes, and took from it two basket of papers, one of

which she placed on either side of the blotting pad. Satisfied that all

was well, she seated herself opposite the leather padded chair for the

first work of the day.

 

There was a long pause until she heard the sound of hasty steps

approaching. A junior hurried in bearing a large bag, from which he sent

an avalanche of letters on to the table in front of Geraldine. As the

boy turned away, she halted him with a peremptory “Stop!”

 

He looked at her uneasily. “Listen, Jimmy,” she said decisively, “this

is the third time in a fortnight you have kept me waiting. If it happens

again you’ll be hunting another job—understand?” She cut short a glib

explanation with, “No good, Jimmy! I’ve heard that yarn better told by a

procession of your predecessors. Your job is to have the mail on this

table at nine. Chase yourself!” The boy fled. With the deftness of long

practice, Geraldine sorted the letters into piles. Some few she passed

untouched to the blotting pad opposite. Then, taking a long, pliant

blade, she swiftly cut envelope after envelope along three sides,

leaving the contents undisturbed. As she cut them she stacked them

neatly at her right hand.

 

She was so intent on her work, that the new-corner who had entered

quietly, had ample time to enjoy the picture she made before a movement

on his part impelled her to turn. The slight frown at the interruption

changed to a smile as he walked round the table and, without ceremony,

seated himself in the chair sacred to Tydvil Jones.

 

After the first glance, the girl had turned to her work again without

speaking. The man watched her for a while as one who gazed on something

worth seeing. Presently he said, with mock ceremony, “Good morning,

Geraldine.”

 

Without pausing to look up, she said quietly, “Good morning, Mr.

Brewer.” There was just enough emphasis on the prefix to convey a

rebuke.

 

The man smiled. “My name, Geraldine, happens to be William, but it’s

generally Billy.”

 

“And mine,” the girl retorted, “happens to be Miss Brand. I wish you

would remember it.’

 

“I’ve a shocking memory,” pleaded Billy, “and Geraldine is about the

only name I think of.”

 

The letters passed swiftly through the slender white hands to the

zip-zip-zip of the flying blade. If she had noticed what he said, she

gave no sign. Brewer was silent, content in looking at her. Presently

she glanced up. “Do you realize that you are occupying Mr. Jones’s

chair, and that he is likely to be in at any moment; and also,”—she

paused to draw a fresh pile of letters towards her—“you have no

business in this room whatever.”

 

Billy looked at the clock on the mantelpiece. “Oh! That one so lovely

should be so false.” He chuckled. “Tyddie will not be here for another

thirty-five minutes, as you know better than I do. I consider looking at

you to be most important business. As for the chair, it fits me

admirably. So much for your objections to my presence.”

 

The girl gave a light laugh. “God gie us a guid conceit o’ orselves.

You’re not nearly big enough to fit that chair comfortably, Mr. Billy

Brewer.”

 

“If you would admit how extremely capable I am, you would not have said

that. However, Geraldine, your attempt to hurt my feelings has failed.

Flopped! My pride remains uninjured.”

 

“I don’t flatter myself that anything I could say would shake your

colossal self-conceit,” she retorted.

 

Billy laughed heartily. “It is not often you are really complimentary,

Geraldine…”

 

“Miss Brand,” she interrupted sharply.

 

“Geraldine,” he continued unmoved, “but when you are you make a man

blush.”

 

“You blush!” she said scornfully. “The fact is that you think because

you are easily the best salesman in the city—I grant you that…”

 

“Please don’t!” he protested. “You make me feel dizzy.”

 

“You are an ass,” she said dispassionately. “Because no buyer, man or

woman, can resist your insidious influence, you think you are big enough

to run C. B. & D. But you’re not, my friend, not by miles.”

 

“Would that you were a buyer, Geraldine,” he said, grinning

provocatively and leaning towards her. She prodded at him with the paper

knife and returned to her letters.

 

“Perhaps,” she said presently, “you think you should be offered a

partnership.”

 

“Would you accept a partnership if it were offered to you?” he asked,

smiling.

 

“Rather!” she replied incautiously.

 

“Hooray!” he exclaimed. “Then I do offer you one. Let us go into

partnership as Brewer and Brand, doing business under the style of

William Brewer—unlimited.”

 

Geraldine placed the last of the letters together and leaned back in her

chair. Unabashed at the suggestion, she met his eyes steadily. For

months there had been this sparring between them. The girl knew he was

in earnest. Worse still, she had reached a stage where she scarcely

cared to analyse her own feelings. She looked at him reflectively before

speaking, and then said deliberately, “Indeed, and how many sleeping

partners would there be in the firm?” There was no mistaking the

intention or the innuendo. Billy flushed under her unwavering eyes, and

tried to pass it off with a jest.

 

“Really, Geraldine, you shock me,” he said, half laughing. “If I am

dumb, I am not deaf,” she went on. “You’re not dumb, Geraldine, I’ll

swear you’re not. I heard you speak most distinctly just now.”

 

“You think,” she took up the tale, “that because people make no comment

to you, that they are blind to the habits and customs of Mr. William

Brewer. You might just as well disabuse your mind of the idea. I believe

in saying what I think.”

 

“Yes,” he broke in, “I have noticed that.”

 

She went on without noticing the interruption. “And I’m not blind to the

fact that you have seen fit to give me the benefit of a good deal of

your society lately. If a fraction of what is said about you is true, if

you have any regard for a girl, you can show it best by keeping away

from her.”

 

Billy whistled softly. “Your hand is not nearly as light as it looks,”

he said. “However, I suppose none of my kind friends has told you that I

have cut out all that sort of thing these many moons.” He paused. “Just

because I realised what you have just told me. Give me a chance,” he

pleaded, and his voice was very soft.

 

She shook her head and stood up. “Billy Brewer, you have been a very bad

boy, and I’d want to be very sure of you before I gave you a chance.”

 

“If you were sure?” he asked.

 

For the first time, her eyes fell. “Prove to me that I can be sure.”

 

She bent to pick up the letters from the table as he moved round beside

her. Then, thinking that direct action might succeed where persuasion

failed, Billy Brewer made a false move. As she bent, he swiftly flung an

arm round her, pinning her arms to her side. Instantly she straightened

and half turned. Billy took a complete tactical advantage of the

unguarded lips.

 

With a little cry, she wrenched her arm free. As she did so, a strange

thing happened. Brewer released her suddenly and stood with his eyes

fixed on some object over her shoulder.

 

Blind with anger, Geraldine did not notice the change in Billy’s

attitude. “You brute! You utter brute!” she gasped, and, with all her

force, she struck him in the face with her clenched hand. It was an

active tennis and golf hand, and Geraldine struck to make her mark—and

did. Three times that hand landed on the same spot before Geraldine

awoke to the fact that Billy was staring over her shoulder, and made no

effort to defend himself. He might have been cast in bronze for all the

notice he took of her enthusiastic assault.

 

Then she, too, turned, and herself became frozen into one of a group.

For, there in the doorway surveying the scene, stood Tydvil Jones. Aye!

Tydvil, who by his self made laws, should not have arrived for another

twenty minutes, at the earliest.